


the gaps of sunlight

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [106]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Internal Monologue, M/M, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: crowley can hardly sleep, until aziraphale helps
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [106]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	the gaps of sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> was exhausted and wrote part of this at like 11 pm with a headache so lmao projection !!!

he can't get comfortable.

rolling and rutching throughout the bed, pushing at gabriel with the sharp ends of his knees, and flipping from side to side, crowley just can't get comfortable. it's two in the morning, there's a quiet thrum of cicadas rustling outside the open bedside window, and the sky is a kind midnight blue. like the deep salts of wide-stretching oceans, sparkled with stars that shine like seafoam. he’d have more patience to appreciate the view were he not too busy focusing on how his neck is sore, his joints buzzing with a subtle ache, and his own curls are sticking to his cheek with sweat. even after kicking his sweatpants off, leaning back to enjoy the lighter, brighter feeling of cool air against his skin, his body still refuses sleep. 

this is getting ridiculous.

aziraphale’s hand reaches his shoulder before he even starts to speak. the soft, tender lilt of his voice lulls through crowley’s ears, making the room just a bit more golden and warm. even just his forgiving tone is enough to soothe crowley; his voice sounds like river lilies and pond shallows, the sweet, fresh chill of sticking his fingers in cold water on a summer's afternoon. all hazy and drowned orange skies, melting into the grass. he speaks like he's fallen in love with every word he's ever heard, everything he's ever touched. enunciating each phrase carefully, making sure no vowel, nor consonant goes unaddressed.

“darling,” he smiles - though crowley can't see it, he knows that he's smiling, he _hears_ it. “having trouble again?”

“tired,” crowley grumbles. “can't sleep.”

aziraphale rubs down to the slender trail of his spine. stroking gently, a faint, delicate touch that leaves crowley shuddering with withdrawal when he pulls away. turning to his other side, he thrusts himself up into aziraphale’s arms, wiggling weakly. aziraphale laughs at him, but it's so warm, so loving, so _nice,_ crowley wouldn't mind being laughed at for all eternity, so long as it's his angel laughing. 

“you're cold,” aziraphale murmurs, kissing at the shallow crook of his temple.

“hot on the inside,” crowley tells him. “feels like i’m burning up.”

“i see,” aziraphale whispers, brushing through the sweaty mess of his curls, his fingers getting caught and entangled. “haven’t you tried shifting, then?”

crowley groans, confused. “shifting what?”

and aziraphale laughs again, heaven knows crowley can’t help himself when he laughs. “your form, silly. i highly doubt you’ll be so warm when your body can’t generate heat from the inside, yes?”

crowley sits up with a shock, head falling into his hands as he lets out an even deeper, somehow _grumpier_ sigh. _how didn’t he think of that?_ bless him, his darling angel. though he is a little envious of how he can manage such problem-solving with his eyes half open, clearly on the cusp of sweet, holy sleep. 

aziraphale brings him back down, kisses him on his forehead, and doesn’t move an inch while crowley shuffles into his serpentine body as easily as he would a new set of jeans. slithering up in aziraphale’s embrace, and curling his tail around his legs, trapping him just as he’s trapped, he finds, quite irritatingly, that aziraphale had been correct. it’s much, _much_ better this way.

the last comprehensible thing crowley remembers before dozing off is gabriel rolling to face him, rubbing his blurry eyes, and making the rather astute observation of, “huh. ‘s a snake,” before soothing his palm over crowley’s head. it’s an easy touch to nuzzle into, his tongue tracing a faint, thin line against his fingers. the closest thing to a kiss he can offer in his current shape.

the press of gabriel’s mouth against his nose is more than enough proof his affection is understood entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> i have nothing to say here other than im crying to mitski rn like actually about to start bawling ok more porn and angst is coming soon hopefully so look forward to that gays


End file.
